


Once Upon a Midnight Dreary

by shadeshifter



Series: Writers Block [2]
Category: Midnight Texas (TV), NCIS
Genre: Competent Tony DiNozzo, F/M, M/M, Midnight Texas season 2, Tony DiNozzo Leaves NCIS Team, Tony has powers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-05-13 10:07:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19249012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadeshifter/pseuds/shadeshifter
Summary: Midnight has a way of attracting strange things and lost people, Manfred isn't expecting the new guy to be any different. He really isn't expecting him to be so much more.





	Once Upon a Midnight Dreary

**Author's Note:**

> I've been sitting on the idea of Tony/Manfred since the show started, and this idea specifically since season 2, although hellbells got there first with an awesome fic. I think the only similarities are that Tony shows up injured (which is practically guaranteed at this point), so hopefully no one objects to my own take on this.
> 
> I've been struggling to write for the last year and a half. I haven't been in a good headspace at all, so I'm posting what I have in the hopes that it sparks something. Comments requesting that I 'post more please' will be ignored.

Manfred decided that it was a consequence of growing used to the weirdness of Midnight, or perhaps a lifetime of trying to ignore anything strange around him, that he didn’t immediately notice the ghost. To be fair to himself, she wasn’t exactly clamouring for his attention like the rest of them tended to, which might also have something to do with it. 

It wasn’t even her he noticed first; it was the man she had clearly attached herself to. From the back room, Manfred could just see him standing at the Home Cookin’ counter. He was tall, broad-shouldered and good-looking, the kind of man Manfred might have flirted with before Creek, just to see how far he could get. But Manfred only saw that as an abstract potential, because the man was pale and his hands shook when they reached for his wallet. That was nothing to the dark shadows smudged under his eyes. He looked less alive than some of the ghosts Manfred had encountered. Certainly less healthy than the pale woman attached to him with vomit spotting her pale blue night dress. 

Manfred’s eyes narrowed as he contemplated whether it was possible for ghosts to feed off of energy. Only the strongest ghosts could influence the living without access to a medium, but he’d never seen anything like that. She looked mostly sad, not vengeful, as she gazed unwaveringly at the man. Maybe she didn’t even realise she was doing it. 

“I’d like to order to go,” the man said, voice low. The words were clipped, not drawling, which meant he was pretty far from home. But then, everyone from Midnight had started that way.

“What can I get you?” Madonna asked. “Other than an ambulance?” 

“The chicken.”

“Sure,” Madonna said, eyeing the man a little dubiously as she turned to package his meal for him. 

Madonna wasn’t always the most welcoming or polite, especially to strangers, but the man didn’t seem to care as his replies were short and monosyllabic, not rude exactly, just tired and distracted. Manfred felt a shiver down his spine and turned his attention from the man, back to the ghost at his side, only to see her pale eyes focused on him. She seemed startled to realise he could see her, if only for a moment, before her jaw firmed and her eyes narrowed. He tensed, wondering what she intended to do, but all she did was move closer to the man, hand hovering at his shoulder as though she wanted to touch him.

Midnight was the kind of place that attracted weird to it, as Manfred knew only too well, but it also provided a place for people like him, people with nowhere else to go, to belong. Manfred wondered if maybe the man had come to Midnight for the same reason they all had and if he’d take their help or if he’d just be passing through. He was trouble either way; Manfred’s instincts honed over years of jumping right in to and talking himself out of trouble told him that much at least. 

Manfred watched through the large windows as the man paid and left, walking slowly and deliberately, shoulders hunching as he studiously avoided bumping into anyone, even casually. The ghost stared at Manfred through the window, keeping pace with the man as he trudged down the road. Manfred shivered. 

 

...

Manfred was headed to the camper when next he saw the stranger who was walking slowly down the street, head down and only half paying attention to his surroundings. One of the townsfolk bumped into him and he flinched violently away, folding his arms tightly around himself and continued doggedly on his way. For reasons he didn’t try to examine too closely, Manfred headed after him, pausing briefly when the man entered the pawn shop before following after him. 

Bobo leaned forward on the counter as the man approached, briefly meeting Manfred’s eyes over his shoulder before returning his focus to the man.

“Can I help you?” Bobo asked.

“How much can I get for this?” the man asked, tipping out a bag of expensive looking watches and masculine jewellery onto the counter. 

“Just let me have a look at these,” Bobo said, separating the items. 

“What brings you to town?” Manfred asked, coming to lean on the counter next to the man. 

“Just passing through,” the man said without looking at him, though he did draw his arms in closer to himself.

“I’m not sure I have enough on hand to give you what some of these are worth,” Bobo said with some reluctance. “We just don’t have the customers who’d afford it.”

“What can you give me?” 

“Maybe $1000,” Bobo said, separating what he was willing to take from what he wasn’t. 

“Fine.”

It wasn’t what the items were worth, probably not even half, but Manfred had taken less than something was worth more than once in the past, usually when something was stolen or he was desperate, or both. 

Bobo headed to the register and withdrew the money which the man pocketed quickly before he gathered up the items Bobo wasn’t taking and turned to leave. He wavered on his feet briefly and Manfred reached out to help him but he man jerked away before he could. 

“Leave him alone,” the ghost said, reappearing in front of him as the man let the door shut on his way out. 

“I can help you cross over,” Manfred told her, ignoring the way Bobo raised an eyebrow, not at him talking to thin air, but probably wondering what was going on. 

“I don’t need your help,” she said, moving closer until the hairs on Manfred’s arms stood up. “He doesn’t need it either. Just leave us alone.”

“People usually come to Midnight for a reason,” he told her, hoping that they could resolve her lingering presence peacefully. There was enough to worry about with Kai and everything else that periodically went wrong in Midnight that he really didn’t want this getting out of hand too.

“He won’t stay long,” she assured him, looking pale and drawn, even for a ghost. She had died relatively young, early thirties at the latest, but those years had clearly been difficult and full of pain. He wondered if she was taking that pain out on the man she haunted. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d seen something like that. 

“Just leave him alone,” she repeated, her frown shifting to a scowl as she stared at him with pale eyes that seemed to pierce him through and expose all his shortcomings.

“Sure,” he agreed easily. “Fine.” Even as he promised himself he’d corner the man to find out what was really going on, even if he had to get Olivia to kidnap him and take him to Manfred’s house which was inhospitable to the dead. The ghost stared at him a moment longer before she nodded once, mostly to herself and faded out.

“Everything okay?” Bobo asked, looking between Manfred and the empty store. 

“I don’t think so,” Manfred said, looking through the space she had occupied. He blinked and turned to focus on Bobo again. “But that’s pretty normal around here. I’ll let you know.”

“You do that,” Bobo said with a bit of a smile.

 

...

“So, anyone seen the new guy?” Olivia asked as she dropped into one of the chairs around the table at the back of the diners that was specifically reserved for permanent residents of the town. Lemuel followed more sedately and lowered himself into the charir opposite her, his gaze entirely focused on her for a long moment before he dragged it away to nod at the others in greeting. 

Manfred couldn’t help but perk up to listen.

“He came to the shop,” Bobo said, leaning forward and resting on his elbows. “I think he’s running.”

Manfred found himself nodding.

“Do I need to kidnap him to find out what’s going on?” Olivia asked a little too cheerfully and Manfred shuddered at remembering his own kidnapping at her hands. They’d become friends sine then, family even, but he’d always found her casual violence just a little off putting.

“Any idea what he’s running from?” Fiji asked curiously.

“He’s being haunted,” Manfred offered after everyone looked at each other for a long moment. He shifted a little uncomfortably under their combined gazes, unable to shake the thought that only a few days ago he’d tried to kill them. It might have been under demonic influence, but it had still been his own hands, his own justifications.

“He is?” Fiji asked.

“There’s a ghost following him. She warned me off.”

“You think he’s got anything to do with what’s going on at the hotel?” Bobo asked.

“You think he’s one of us?” Fiji asked, gripping Bobo’s hand tightly in her excitement. 

It wasn’t often their town got new people and with the addition of Kai, Patience and this other man, they had practically increased their permanent town residence by half again. But if there was nothing else the last year had taught him, it was that no one came to Midnight without baggage and that usually meant trouble for them all. Sometimes that was worth it, if they were interested in making Midnight a home, but not if they were just looking to exploit it. Like Shawn Lovell hiding Connor’s proclivities or Lem’s vampire friends. 

“I think he might be,” Manfred said.

It was a little too much like his own introduction to town, not sure who he could trust, with his past hot on his heels. It wasn’t too different from Bobo or Lem either; both of whom had had to face their own demons in the last year. 

“Do you think I should take him some cookies?” Fiji asked. She glanced in Olivia’s direction and the smirk Olivia gave in response left no doubt that the cookies they were offering, most likely the same as the ones he’d been given when he arrived, were altered in some way, though it clearly hadn’t harmed him. It probably wouldn’t harm Tony either, but the man barely trusted anyone as it was. 

“Maybe give him some space,” he said. Lem watched him for a moment before nodding. 

“It would probably serve us best to leave him be and let him approach us.”

Manfred was relieved, though he couldn’t say why. Maybe it was that the rest of the town could be a little overwhelming for the uninitiated. 

...

“You have to help him,” the ghost said as Manfred was walking home. 

“What?” he said, turning around to see the ghost woman who had been trailing the strange man. She looked scared and desperate. 

“You’re the only one who can see me, the only one who can get him a doctor,” she told him.

“Who?”

“Tony.”

“Where is he?” Manfred asked, fully aware this could be a trap of some sort, but also inclined to believe her stark desperation.

She took off without a reply and he followed her. She lead him back a little way, not quite to the Davy highway or the hotel, back behind one of the houses. Janice and Martin, he thought, but they’d been gone more than they’d been in town since Colconnar had driven Janice to try to kill herself. Before that they’d often had their kids or grandkids over to stay. Plenty of people from Midnight and Davy had opened up rooms to construction workers for a little extra cash. He wasn’t surprised Janice and Martin had done the same, even if their guest clearly wasn’t involved with restoring the hotel. 

The ghost stopped at the door of what used to be a garage. Manfred knocked with a bit more force than he typically would have otherwise. The ghost gave him a dark look that was actually quite intimidating. 

“He can’t answer,” she told him. “You need to hurry,”

With a quick, instinctive glance around to make sure no one was watching, even though it wouldn’t matter beyond curiosity if they were, and picked his way inside. The first thing he noticed was the smell of stale sweat and sickness. He sought out the figure sprawled out on the bed, limbs tangled in the ruckled sheets. His T-shirt was damp with sweat and his hair stuck to his forehead. The man, Tony, he thought the ghost had called him, barely registered his presence. Manfred rested a hand on his forehead, surprised when Tony flinched away from him, but it was enough to realise his temperature was way too high. 

“Try not to touch him,” she said softly. “He doesn’t like to be touched.”

“I need to call someone in,” Manfred told her and she nodded absently as she moved to hover as Tony’s head. She reached out to stroke his hair from his forehead, but dropped her hand when she remembered it wouldn’t make a difference to him. 

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t ever do right by you,” she whispered to Tony, leaning in close, as Manfred stepped away and he wondered what their dynamic really was. 

The ghost barely acknowledged Manfred as he pulled out his phone and dialed Fiji.

“Manfred,” she greeted and he could hear the joy in her voice. He’d never met anyone as relentlessly cheerful as her, but somehow she made them all a little better for it.

“I have someone here that needs healing,” he told her. 

“Just let me grab some things,” she said and he heard the sound of her opening and closing things before he gave her his location and she said a hurried goodbye.

“Thank you,” the ghost said, looking up at him again. 

Manfred just nodded as he went to the bathroom to wet some cloths to bathe Tony’s face with cool water until Fiji arrived. He needed to do what he could to bring his temperature down. Tony grimaced at the sudden cold but didn’t do more than stir a little, protesting incoherently. He was at a complete loss at what to do, he’d nursed his grandmother through her cancer but he’d never dealt with someone sick like this, so he was relieved when the door opened and Fiji slipped inside, closing it behind her. She held a basket of herbs under one arm that she set to one side as she came to check on Tony.

“He doesn’t look good,” she said unnecessarily. 

“He has a wound at his side,” the ghost said. “I didn’t see it happen, but he’s been trying to patch it himself.”

“His side,” Manfred said, immediately reaching over to lift up the sweat-soaked T-shirt. There was a bandage, stained dark with blood, that curved along his ribs, towards his back. He heard Fiji gasp before she squared her shoulders and got to work.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Fiji told the unconscious man when he made a pitiful mewling sound at being moved onto his good side, though Manfred tried to touch him as little as possible, well aware of the man’s reaction. “We’re going to fix you up.”

Fiji carefully peeled back the bandage to get a good look at what they were dealing with and winced. Manfred regularly saw ghosts in the state the died in. In comparison, this was nothing. 

“It’s stitched, pretty decently too, so someone treated him, but not thoroughly enough to prevent infection,” Fiji said. She looked pale and Manfred was sure she was remembering Olivia and the burn Fiji hadn’t been able to treat. But Manfred knew she’d researched everything she could get her hands on after that so she could be better prepared, so she wasn’t so helpless again.

“What do you need me to do?” Manfred asked. 

Fiji remained still a moment, staring at the wound before she nodded to herself. 

“You need to flush it out while I prepare a poultice.” 

“I can do that,” Manfred told her, and he got started. 

...

Manfred had gone back to his place to fetch his laptop while Fiji finished up with Tony. He’d set up to do some work at the bedside with his feet up on the bed while he monitored Tony. The man was already looking better, even if his temperature hadn’t broken yet. 

“Do you think this makes up for it?” the ghost asked from where she’d also been monitoring Tony’s improving state.

“For what?” Manfred prompted carefully. She’d seemed protective of him from the beginning and willing to do what she deemed necessary to keep him safe, but he’d learned not to trust first impressions, especially when it came to spirits. 

“For leaving him alone.”

She leaned forward and kissed the air just above Tony’s forehead, unable to actually touch him. 

“You’re his mother,” Manfred said, realising finally what her relationship with Tony was. The ghost looked at him sadly before dropping her gaze back to Tony. She must have died when he was awfully young. 

She nodded, but didn’t say anything further. He wondered what it had been like to watch her son’s life, the highs and the lows, and being unable to interact with him, to comfort and celebrate with him. It sounded like a nightmare. 

“Do you have a message for him? Something you want to say to him?”

She shook her head.

“I don’t want to burden him. I did enough of that when I was alive,” she said with a deep sadness that seemed to keep her weighted to the world of the living, not looking away from Tony as she spoke.

Manfred didn’t reply. He didn’t know enough to agree or contradict her and from what he’d experienced, the dead had little use or need for platitudes. 

“What's your name?” Manfred asked suddenly, curious despite himself, but she didn’t seem like most of the spirits clamouring for his attention. If anything, she was more like Zylda. 

“Elizabeth.”

Just a first name, not enough to identify her or her son. He was definitely running from something, but that hardly set him apart from the rest of Midnight.

“Manfred,” he said in response. Elizabeth smiled warmly at him.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Manfred. Sorry about threatening you.”

Manfred shrugged. It was hardly the first time and certainly she’d been less violent and invasive than most ghosts he encountered. 

“Speaking of,” she began as Tony started to stir. “He doesn’t react well to waking up with strangers near him and he keeps a gun under his pillow.”

“You’re only telling me this now,” Manfred objected as he dropped his feet off the bed and scooted his chair back. 

“He’d be worse if he woke up without it,” Elizabeth said, a little too amused for Manfred’s liking. “You should see what he can do with a chair.”

Manfred swallowed. Ghosts he could deal with. Even other kinds of supernatural creatures he was getting used to. But there was little he could do to defend himself from people who intended him harm beyond a little brawling he’d picked up along the way. He probably should have asked Olivia for some self-defense before this, but it was too late now.

“Don’t tell him about me,” she said, with a lingering, sad look at the man on the bed. “It would only hurt him.”

Manfred couldn’t do more than nod as startling green eyes snapped open and focused immediately on him. Even though he was still flushed with fever, though his temperature had dropped to more manageable levels, Tony pushed himself up, one hand going under the pillow where the gun was no doubt kept. 

“My name is Manfred,” he said, hands raised in a placating gesture and to show that he wasn’t armed. He didn’t otherwise move. “You’ve been very sick and I’ve been looking after you.”

He figured it wouldn’t be a good idea to mentioned Fiji just yet. Tony continued to watch him warily and Manfred’s discomfit quickly overcame his terror.

“We met briefly at the pawnshop. I’m psychic, that’s how I knew you were sick,” he added, telling most of the truth. 

“Tony,” he said finally, obviously too out of it to stick to a fake name, but not so out of it that he revealed everything. “What day is it?”

“Tuesday.”

“Huh,” Tony said, running a hand through his hair and setting it even further in disarray. Manfred couldn’t help but smile at the sight. “I suppose you could have killed me already if you wanted to.”

“I don’t think I’d have the stomach for it,” Manfred admitted. “And Janice and Martin would never forgive me for making a mess.”

“Oh, well, in that case,” Tony said, leaning back against the pillows and giving at least some indication of how exhausted he was. 

“Let me get you something to eat,” Manfred said and he went to get the Thermos of soup Fiji had picked up from the diner.


End file.
